


Chains

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime thinks Brienne would look good in pink. Brienne thinks quite a few other things. </p>
<p>Based on the quote, "You’ll wear your chains, Kingslayer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains

"You can be a princess tonight," he whispered into her ear. Jaime's hands were kneading the stiffened muscles of her back, stroking between her shoulder blades and easing her tight shoulders. Her tension softened at his touch. It had been a long day, but sitting between his legs, both of them clad only in underthings, her troubles seemed very distant.

"A princess?" Brienne asked, incredulous.

"Yes. You were trapped in a tower, and I have come to rescue you," he breathed onto her neck. She found herself laughing.

"Is that what you want to think of me? A damsel in distress for Ser Jaime to come sweep up?"

"No, it's not what I think of you at all." He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her against him. "But it might be nice for us to pretend."

She was still a moment, absorbing the comfort of his presence. She shifted, pressing the side of her head into his bare chest. His heartbeat quickened and pulsed into her ear.

"If you're a knight, I get to be one too. It's only fair." She looked up and watched the smile flash across his face.

"And you... Are you a naughty knight? Do you need to be spanked?" He squeezed her rear playfully.

She considered it for a moment. "If anyone is naughty, it's you. You're much naughtier than I am. And besides, your sword is bigger."

"Yes, but yours is blue. Yours has style. It's much prettier."

"Yours isn't so bad. I'm quite fond of it." She shifted to sit on her knees in from of him, cupping her hand against his jaw and kissing him. After a moment, she pulled away, standing and crossing the room to their closet. She emerged fully nude with a box, unassuming and plain cardboard, but large enough to be carried with both hands. His face brightened when he saw it.

“You were being serious?” His voice was playful, but not surprised.

“I take misbehavior very seriously, Ser Jaime.” She took a step forward and placed the box on the bed. Her hand reached inside and retrieved a set of handcuffs, cold grey metal, but lined with pink fuzz. She tossed them to him and crawled onto the bed. Her hands braced against his shoulders, easing his body down, pressing him into the sheets. She straddled him, the sides of her knees flush against his waist. They kissed, harder this time, lacing their fingers together. The metal clinked gently against the wood of the headboard. Jaimie tilted his head back, examining his restraints.

“Did you have to use the pink ones?” he asked. She extracted herself from him, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. His cock had risen, visibly and unmistakably through his boxers. The soft pink cuffs looked fragile against his thick wrists, like they could break at any moment. Every muscle of his body seemed tensed and tight, waiting for her next move. He was still, but for his smile. The sight was immeasurably pleasing.

"Your color preferences are no concern of mine."

"I just feel pink is more _your_ color."

"It's your color now." Brienne curled her fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them quickly off his body. She climbed into the bed and sat at his side. She traced the pads of her fingers over his chest, drawing gentle circles and swirls into his skin. Gooseflesh rose along his arms. Her fingertips skated across his exposed body, working lower and lower, past his navel to coarse thatch of hair between his legs. When she touched his cock, he drew a sharp breath. She ran two fingers up and down the length of it, still a whisper of a touch. Jaime made a choked sound in the back of his throat. She slowed her pace. He pitched his hips forward, a silent plea for more. Brienne took her hand away entirely.

"You're cruel. Do you know that? Cruel," he said through his teeth.

She swung a leg over him, settling herself over his chest. She wondered if she could feel her wetness against him. Bending down, she kisses along his jaw. She worked at his neck, running her teeth across the soft skin and sucking. She couldn't decide which was better, the sight of her marks or the sensation of him squirming beneath her.

"I want to touch you," he breathed.

“You do?” Her mouth hovered over his ear.

“Yes.”

She tweaked his earlobe in between her teeth. He stifled a moan.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, Brienne, please. Please let me just touch you.”

She pulled back to look down at him. His expression was so desperate, so lustful, that she briefly considered his request. She caressed his sharp jawline, smiling gently down at him.

“You’ll stay in your chains, Ser Jaime.” 

The look on his face twisted into anguish.

“Please, Brienne. I’m begging you. Free my hands and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Stop talking.” She slid her legs further up his body, her knees at the level of his shoulders. His breath was hot against her thighs. He licked his lips.

“I think this is a much better use of your mouth, don’t you?” She smiled down at him, bringing herself even closer.

Rather than speak again, he brought his tongue to her. The first contact brought a sweet, slow burn that radiated through her. She felt her cheeks flush and her lips part. He worked eagerly against her. When she started to feel the pressure within her rise, she shifted back, pulling herself just out of his reach. He groaned at the loss, pulling against his restraints. She only lingered for a moment. When they connected again, he was relentless. His movements became just as frantic as hers had been calm. She felt herself slipping under his spell.

She writhed against him roughly, inhibitions escaping her body in loud moans. Jaime never slowed, matching each jut of her hips with a curl of his tongue. She gasped as her body tensed. She gripped his forearms, steadying herself. Her release came forcefully. Her back arched and her arms shook, Jaime’s name leaving her lips in hard gasps. Her nails left white crescent moon marks on his forearm. She dismounted him, hands shaking. She attempted to stand, but swayed, gripping the side of the nightstand for balance. She heard him laugh.

“Have I earned my freedom?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Brienne was back at the box. She fumbled inside longer this time, untangling some of the contents. Jaime was straining again, trying to sit up enough to see her. The intensity on his face was charming. She moved deliberately, pulling the leather harness out of the box first. She stepped into it slowly, taking her sweet time adjusting the fastenings and examining the image of her pale skin cut by the dark straps. She looked up at Jaime. He was biting his lip, hunger dark in his eyes. She went back into the box and pulled out her accessory. The strap-on was a dark blue with swirls of a lighter blue throughout. She put on a great show of slipping it through the cold metal ring over her mound. One last trip into the box had her emerging with lube in hand. She stroked her cock and approached him. He bent his knees and planted his feet on the bed.

“Do you still want to escape?”

“I’ve accepted my fate,” he murmured.

She kneeled between his legs, fingers brushing up his thighs. She placed one hand against his stomach, as though she was holding him back, while the other slipped fingers inside him. She built a rhythm, careful but not teasing. When she felt him relax, his hips squirming to meet her motions, she eased her fingers away. He lifted his gaze, concerned for a moment. The worry softened when her hands slid lower, cupping his ass.

She wanted to ask if he was ready, but the thought of giving him power and spoiling the fun brought her down. Instead, she moved slowly, lifting his hips to rest against her legs. He tilted toward her in response, breath already tight. She pressed her body closer and blue cock inside of him. As she eased further inside, the look on his face was a sweet sight. In these moments, she thought this was close to how he must feel most nights. He was beautiful from this angle, his body long and languid, his head thrown back and mouth open.

She sunk into him, bringing herself as close as she dared until he edged closer to meet her. When she was sure he wanted more, she shifted her hands to sides and gripped him hard. She put her whole body into fucking him. Her back arched when her cock pressed deeper into him. He responded quickly, lifting himself closer to her on each stroke. He made small, throaty noises, all cut short by gasps of breath.

Brienne quickened her rhythm. Her hands dug harder into his skin. Their motions became tighter, him meeting her hard thrusts with his own. He wrapped his legs around her waist, squeezing tight against her. His muscles were tensing, his face tightening. She loosened her grip on his waist. She slowed back to a smooth roll, pulling further and further out of him with each stroke. He brought his legs back to the bed with a sigh that sounded so melodramatic that she came close to laughing. She eased him down and removed herself from him completely. It was jarring to lose the warmth and the closeness of him.

She performed for him again, running her hands down the sides of her body before pulling at her equipment. She felt ludicrous for a moment, but she looked up to see him biting his lip again. She nearly fumbled with the leather. His expression sent a flutter through her, and she bent down with painstaking slowness, keeping her ass in the air as long as she could manage. She stood at the edge of the bed, nude and flushed, for a long moment, considering her options.

“You’ve behaved yourself, Ser Jaime. I’m surprised. I think you’ve earned a reward.”

“Have I?”

“What do you want most?”

“I want you.” Jaime’s voice was needy, desperate even. It wasn’t just the sound that pushed her to relent. It was his swollen cock, the marks at his wrists from fighting against the metal, the strain visible on his face. He spread his legs and she crawled between them. She caressed him, running her hand over the fevered skin of his cheek. She dipped down to kiss him. She was gentle, but he was not. She tried to smile against him, but it proved difficult with her lower lip between his teeth. Brienne pulled away, bringing her back upright. Carefully, she brought her knees to either side of his hips. His breath hitched as she ran her hand along the shaft of his cock.

She lowered herself onto him carefully, getting herself accustomed to the feel of him inside her. After a moment, she took him entirely, bracing her hands on his chest. She writhed, fucking him in smooth, slow strokes. Her desire took over every thought; she pressed her weight against him at every downstroke.

Sounds spilled from Jaime’s mouth in gasps, affirmations and choked attempts at her name. His body was tense at every point. Brienne ground her hips against him, fingers digging into his flesh. For all his noise, he came with a choked silence, his bound hands clenched into fists. She rose from him and let herself fall backwards, sitting between his legs. When Brienne had caught her breath, she crawled along the length of his body. His breath was still ragged, but he opened his eyes and smiled at her as she approached. She kissed his upturned lips. While her tongue played against his, her hands felt blindly at the edge of the headboard. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the key, and she pulled away from Jaime’s mouth to unshackle him.

“Have I been on good enough? Do I really deserve all this freedom?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. She wriggled against him, her head resting on his shoulder and the stomach pressed against his side.

“Yes, absolutely.”

He ran a hand across her head, stroking her pale hair.

“I still think the pink handcuffs would look better on you.”

She reached out a hand and patted his chest.

“Next time,” she murmured into his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge, glowing, ALL CAPS THANK YOU to [YellowDelaney](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowDelaney/pseuds/YellowDelaney) for being my beta, and an extension of that gratitude to everyone who has helped me with this smutty endeavor.


End file.
